Part 12 (2/2)
A thumb jerked toward Bolan and Leo the p.u.s.s.y tossed a curious glance that way.
Without changing position or expression, Bolan called over, ”The library, Sammy.”
The yard boss gave directions; Leo was staring curiously at the tall figure in the corner as he moved into the hallways and disappeared.
Bolan watched the rest of the lambs through, then went to the library.
Leo was sitting on Angeletti's desk, legs swinging, lips thoughtfully pursed.
Bolan strode on past him and to the bar, moved around behind it, opened two c.o.kes.
Leo came up and stood there, gazing at him across the bar.
Bolan shoved a c.o.ke over and took off the gla.s.ses.
Turrin hissed, ”Motherf.u.c.ker!”
Bolan smiled and said, ”Glad I was out there.” Leo was beside himself. ”G.o.d I thought-looked, and I-I thought, aw, h.e.l.l no, couldn't be-you are the nerviest b.a.s.t.a.r.d I ever . . . the yard boss says you're carrying an Ace of Spades!”
”That's right,” Bolan replied, smiling faintly.
”What are you doing here, Leo?”
”Ah, h.e.l.l, I was ordered to fly down here as some sort of consultant to Angeletti. Just got in a little while ago, took a cab from the airport. These crews were waiting out there . * . I just rode in from the gate with them.”
Bolan repeated, ”I'm glad I was out there.” ”Why, what's the lie?”
”The lie,” Bolan explained, ”is that those boys are going downstairs for a briefing. And there it is, they just got it.” A m.u.f.fled commotion from below was rattling the floor at their feet.
Leo Turrin turned pale and said, ”Choppers. ”Right. And down they went, all in a row.” Turrin grabbed the c.o.ke and belted about half of it. Then he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and muttered, ”What a lousy way to make a living.”
”Yeah,” Bolan agreed. ”But you're not doing it for that. The world couldn't pay enough for-”
”No way,” Turrin growled. ”Okay. What's going on? Is this another Palm Springs ma.s.sacre you're engineering here?”
Bolan said, ”Something like that.” He went to the window, opened it, looked out.
Sammy the yard boss was trudging back across the lawn, headed for the gate and some fresh blood.
Bolan stepped back to the bar and told his buddy from Pittsfield, ”I'll have to watch them in. Can't take a chance on another. . .” The eyes flashed at Turrin. ”Wils Brown is supposed to be coming, also.”
”Who is Wils Brown?”
”Another guy who knows my face. Friend from back when, black guy. He was counting nickles and dimes for Arnie Farmer last time I-”
”Oh yeah, the NFL guy.”
”Not any more,” Bolan said. ”Not since he threw a block into a Claymore mine ... in 'Nam.”
”He's NFL again,” Turrin advised Bolan. ”Augie gave me a message for Angeletti. The football guy says go to h.e.l.l. He left the mob right after that bust of yours in Europe. He's scouting the colleges for the pro's now.”
Bolan sighed. ”d.a.m.n glad to hear that,” he muttered.
Another car was moving up the drive.
”Stay put right here,” he advised Leo, and went out for the next nose count.
The numbers, the new ones, were coming in now, fast and furious.
The Executioner meant to see that each of them was played to a cadence count.
It was war, he kept reminding himself . . . in the right here and now.
Chapter 20/ The Message.
Regardless of the way the thing eventually worked out, Leo Turrin needed to be covered.
When the last group had been led to the slaughterhouse, Bolan took Sammy and Leo upstairs for a report to the man.
He was seated in a chair at the window, calmly puffing on a cigar.
It was Sammy who told the Capo, ”It's done, Don Stefano.”
”Good work, I'll remember this,” Angeletti said lazily. ”Give your boys some wine. No-give them whiskey but not too much. And tell them there'll be an extra thousand on their books this month.”
The calm gaze swiveled slowly to dwell fully upon Leo Turrin. The eyes flared with a pa.s.sing uneasiness as he asked, ”Who is this?”
Bolan said, ”We're in luck, Steven. This is Leopold Turrin from our friends in Ma.s.sachusetts. They're neutrals. I think Leo should take the message back to New York.”
Angeletti proffered his hand. Leo kissed it. The old man became expansive then, smiling and waving the visitor to a chair.
Bolan remained standing. He flicked his eyes at the yard boss and Sammy went out.
The old man said, ”I had other ideas for you, Leo, and I thank you for coming but . . . well ...no need for that now. What message would you like to take to New York for me?”
Turrin looked at the floor.
He stretched his neck, patted his throat, popped his jaw, bugged his eyes, then patted his throat again.
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